


Adjusting Mission Parameters

by ereshai



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cookies, Domestic, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-05 00:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: Cookies, beer, and hanging out with Phil. That was all Clint needed to unwind after a tough mission. Almost all.





	Adjusting Mission Parameters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Westgate (Harkpad)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Personal Op](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768723) by [Westgate (Harkpad)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate). 



> Since this is a remix, I have used portions of the dialogue from the original fic.  
> Many thanks to [relentless-logic](relentless-logic.tumblr.com) and [Luniana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Luniana/pseuds/Luniana) for their very helpful beta reading <3

Clint slumped into his seat and closed his eyes.

“Buckle in,” Beal shouted over the noise of the quinjet’s engines and Clint suppressed a sigh of irritation. Rumor had it that Beal had been a drill sergeant in his LBS (Life Before SHIELD), and Clint believed it. He was that brand of dickish. They had finished the op in record time and Clint still felt he’d spent way too much time with the man.

Eyes still closed, he groped for the straps. Someone thumped down on the seat beside him. “Don’t tell me you can see with your eyes closed, Hawkeye. Even you aren’t that good.”

Clint stubbornly kept his eyes closed as he continued to fumble with the buckles. “Fuck you, Uvalle, I am that good.”

Uvalle snorted but didn’t say anything else, for which Clint was grateful. He and Uvalle had just spent a majority of the op together, tramping through mud and bushes and who knew what else, and they literally had nothing left to talk about. Esther or Ojara would have wanted to bitch about Beal or the op, and Cash would have gone on endlessly about how this op affected his career prospects at SHIELD, and Clint was not in the mood for any of that. He just wanted to get back to HQ, debrief as quickly as humanly possible, and then go home and relax until he had to start all over again the next day.

And if getting home meant there was a good chance Coulson would show up at his place with beer and Clint was looking forward to that most of all, well, Clint could play that off as friendship. Because they were friends. Clint didn’t have to tell anyone he wanted to build that friendship into something more.

Lately he was starting to think maybe Phil did, too. Maybe now was the time to go for it.

“Barton,” Beal barked. “Stop feeling up those safety straps and put them on. I want us airborne an hour ago and if your shitkickery makes me late for washing my hair tonight, you’re filing everyone’s mission reports.”

Triumphantly, the buckles clicked together right on Beal’s last word. “Not the one holding us up, Beal.” He still hadn’t bothered to open his eyes.

“That’s Agent Beal, Barton.”

Clint did open his eyes then. “That’s Agent Barton,  _Agent_  Beal.” Clint didn’t normally insist on it, but if Beal wanted to measure dicks, Clint was game. They were both level sevens, after all.

Beal gave him a hard look, but he took a seat without saying anything else. He would probably make Clint’s life hell the next time they went on an op together, but it was worth it.

Uvalle’s barely stifled laugh was covered by the pilot’s announcement. “Lifting off. SHIELD HQ ETA two hours.”

Clint closed his eyes again, a little smile on his face. Two hours was enough time for a quick nap. He needed to be alert for tonight. And he had to throw together a plan of seduction. Clint didn’t want to use conventional tactics on Coulson; he was worth something more personal than that.

Cookies, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. That would be good. Then if Coulson didn’t show after all, at least he’d have cookies.

Operation Seduce Phil Coulson was officially a go.

~

The debrief went quickly. Beal didn’t even speak to Clint, much less mention him doing anyone else’s paperwork, and after a few hours Clint was on his way home. His shower – as hot as he could stand it – was heaven, melting away the last of the tension from his muscles and leaving behind the usual soreness. After, he towel-dried his hair and brushed his teeth. Clint stared at himself in the mirror; even through the lingering fogginess, he could tell his eyes were bloodshot. Maybe he could play the pity card to get Phil into bed.

He did put some thought into the clothes he picked out – the green tee was soft and clung to his chest and shoulders in a way that always made Phil stare. The jeans were his oldest and most comfortable pair and they made his ass look awesome, so he figured that would offset the fact that he looked and felt like warmed up leftovers.

Once he was as attractive as he could reasonably be after working with Agent Beal, Clint went to check his cupboards. He baked cookies whenever he had the time, but he had no idea what ingredients he had on hand. Hopefully his cupboards weren't bare; he wasn’t leaving his apartment until tomorrow morning, cookies be damned. He still had the pity fuck angle to work with.

Luck was with him; he had everything he needed to make his favorite – snickerdoodles. He was in the middle of mixing the dough when Phil showed up with a six-pack of beer. Cookies, beer, and Phil; Clint was already starting to feel better. Although Phil telling him he looked like hell stuck a knife in his intentions for the evening. Whatever, he still had cookies and beer, and Phil was looking _fine_ , all unbuttoned and relaxed in a v-neck sweater and jeans. Clint tried not to stare.

Then Phil choked on nothing and fucking  _blushed_  when Clint got close to him. He’d definitely picked the right clothes. Things were looking up.

“What are snickerdoodles?”

Or maybe not.

“You don’t know what snickerdoodles are?” Phil had to be messing with him.

“Yeah, no. Have I mentioned I don’t cook? Like. Ever?”

On second thought, Clint could work with this. “Yeah, you mentioned it, but Phiiiil,” he said playfully. “Phil, you have to have tried someone else’s snickerdoodles before. They’re like, the best cookies in the universe.”

“Okay. I can try yours, right?”

Oh yeah, it was on. Clint gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, Phil. You can try mine.”

Clint went back to making cookies before he completely forgot his plan to seduce Phil with the best cookies in the universe. On the other hand, Phil was pretty hopeless in the kitchen – he didn’t even recognize cinnamon sugar.

“I think you need some lessons.” Clint could show him a thing or two. Phil could help him roll out the next batch once the cookies came out of the oven.

“In the kitchen?” Phil looked happy and carefree and Clint could very definitely show him a thing or two outside the kitchen too.

He took a swig of beer. Fuck it, he was going to make a move.  He set his bottle on the counter and stepped closer, getting right in Phil’s personal space. “If you’re going to bring me beer after annoying ops, I can teach you how to make cookies. Or we could do other things.” His voice was heavy with innuendo.

Phil stared at his lips –  _Yes!_  – and then looked into his eyes and didn’t say anything.

“Other things, Phil.” He was being pretty obvious, but Phil was talking about cookies, dammit Phil, stop talking about the cookies. His gaze went to Phil’s mouth and he licked his lips. Phil’s eyes went out of focus and Clint leaned in and kissed him.

Mission successful.


End file.
